


suicidal ghosts

by invisiblyinked



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Don't Judge Me, F/M, Self-Loathing, Violet-centric, and still haven't completely finished that, i've only watched season one, mentions of suicide (past), mostly violet-introspective, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisiblyinked/pseuds/invisiblyinked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she'd probably kill herself if she weren't already dead</p>
            </blockquote>





	suicidal ghosts

Tate is so full of shit, Violet thinks and wonders how she'd never noticed this before. Blinded by love perhaps? (Violet cringes. Love. It still hurts to think about it).

 

Tate is a wonderful bullshitter, perhaps the best she’s ever met which is funny because Violet had thought she was the best bullshitter she’d ever known (plastic smiles and sleeves pulled down, _i’m fine okay?_ and _i don’t care, i don’t care about anything at all_ ) except Tate has an exceptional way with words like she’s never had and so the lies sound pretty, all the sweet nothings he whispers to her roll off his tongue smoothly.

 

“I love you Violet,” he’d say (so many times) and then he would kiss her and Violet’s heart would beat too fast and she would believe him because Violet was (is) a silly little girl with dreams of being loved and being happy and Tate knew all the right things to say.

 

┼

 

“I will follow you into the dark,” she promised and Tate had smiled and held her close and he was so _cold_ , but she hadn’t noticed because with his fingers on her skin like that Violet was warm enough for the both of them.

 

She’d followed him into the dark.

 

But now she can’t get out.

 

┼

 

Sometimes, Violet will find herself wanting to be alive again because she hates being inside this house and she’s suddenly got this itch to travel to faraway places but she can’t even do that because God knows what would happen if she did and maybe she sort of misses what it feels like to actually _feel_.

 

At first, Violet did want to die—that’s what the pills were for, that’s why she waited until no one was around to keep her alive. But then later, when her dad was missing and her mother was gone and Tate wanted her to do a double suicide she realized that wasn’t what she wanted at all ( _please no, please please, tate no i don’t want to die please—_ )

 

But it was too late and now Violet spends a lot of her time trying not to think of her regrets but it’s sort of hard when her biggest one won’t leave her alone.

 

┼

 

Tate smiles at her, and Violet doesn’t know why but sometimes she thinks he didn’t try very hard to save her, in the end.

 

┼

 

When Tate had kissed her before, Violet had thought his dark eyes had shone from all the love and happiness he felt around her. That’s why there was always so much life in them.

 

Now, Violet realizes that it was her life not his. Every time he kissed her, he’d take a little bit of her soul with him and without that shine in his eyes anyone could see just how dead he was on the inside.

 

┼

 

“I still love you Violet,” he says to her one day after weeks of her avoiding him. She sits up on her bed to get a better look at him. His mouth is sad. His eyes are empty.

 

She laughs, but it’s more of a hysterical sob that gets caught in her throat. It’s a broken thing, the sound of a girl who has just about given up on everything.

 

“You don’t  know what love is,” she says and her eyes are hard and bitter. She leaves him there, knowing that he won’t follow.

 

┼

 

She sits in her favorite smoking spot, one leg hanging down from the ledge and the other pulled close in so that her knee almost touches her chest. She takes a long drag from the cigarette and wonders if, had she not swallowed the pills, this would have been the thing to kill her. She stares out at the front lawn, pensive look on her face. This is how he finds her.

 

“Hey,” he says quietly and smiles at her. As if everything is okay, as if she doesn’t feel the urge to ram his head into the brick wall repeatedly, or punch him in the fucking face at the very least. “You wanna play Scrabble or something?”

 

Violet sucks in a breath. She can feel the anger building up and—how dare he, how fucking _dare he_. She doesn’t even look at him as she speaks because she’s afraid that she actually _will_ punch him in the face.

 

“You make me sick, you know that? You—I can’t stand you. You didn’t tell me about the house. You didn’t tell me that dying here meant staying here. You _damned_ me, Tate, and then you lied. About _everything._ ” She’s shaking. The ashes fall from the cigarette slowly. “You killed my family. And don’t even get me started on that fucking demon spawn and I just—there aren’t enough words to describe how much I hate you. But I do. I fucking hate you and I don’t think I can ever really forgive you for what you did so no, I don’t want to play fucking _Scrabble_ with you Tate.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and blinks back tears. It’s pretty believable and if he weren’t dead Violet thinks he’d win an Oscar for his incredible performance. Right now though, she thinks it’s just pathetic.

 

“I’m sorry you feel that way and I’m sorry for _everything_ that I’ve done,” he continues, “But  I want to be better. I want to be good. For you, Violet. Because I love you and I know somewhere in there is the Violet that still loves me too. So just _give me a chance,_ okay? Just let me—”

 

“Go away Tate,” Violet says and she is suddenly so tired of everything and she wants to cry because she hates him so much but he’s right and she still loves him too (monster that he is and is that fucked or _what_ ) and Violet doesn’t know what to believe in anymore and the only thing she’s even sure of is that she’s miserable.

 

If she weren’t already dead, she’d probably kill herself.

 

The leaves on the trees rustle as a breeze she wishes she could still feel passes. She presses the still burning cigarette into the bricks and flicks it into the bushes.

 

When she looks over her shoulder, Tate is gone.

  
Violet lights another cigarette. It leaves a bad taste in her mouth.


End file.
